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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29408568">The Person I Love The Most</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariana_Monteverde/pseuds/Mariana_Monteverde'>Mariana_Monteverde</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fears and thoughts during the war, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Library, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Art, Inspired by Fanart, Love Letters, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining, Study Group, Valentine Card, Valentine's Day Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 13:21:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29408568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariana_Monteverde/pseuds/Mariana_Monteverde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy has a secret, one that he never thought would see the light of day.<br/>What happens when Hermione Granger finds this secret?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Box of Chocolates, dm fanfics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Person I Love The Most</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            Anonymous in the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Box_of_Chocolates">Box_of_Chocolates</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>Prompt:</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>8th Year / Valentine Card / NSFW/SFW unspecified by artists</p><p>Hi!<br/>First of All, I want to thank LadyKenz347 and Kyonomiko for hosting this amazing Fest &lt;3</p><p>In Second Place, a big shout out to the amazing Daniii_ Ann, and the beautiful piece that she made for this prompt. Thank you for inspiring me into writing this story and I hope you like it &lt;3<br/>You can Find the artist on <a href="https://www.instagram.com/daniii_ann/">Instagram</a> </p><p>And lastly but not least, Thank you to my dear <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyLipsStarryEyes">RubyLipsStarryEyes</a> , the best Alphabet a girl could ask for &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco never thought he and Hermione Granger would become friends, but he’d also never thought he would become a spy for her.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Because </span>
  </em>
  <span>of her. Even if he would never tell her that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Andromeda had done enough and spilled the beans, telling the Golden Trio that her source of information about the Death Eaters had been her nephew. Draco should have known he couldn’t just trust the most stubborn Slytherin of the Black Sisters. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and held allegiance only to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never wanted that information to be known, but he would always remember that first night in the 8th Year Common Room. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep on his new bed, so he came downstairs to have some tea and found her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could even apologize, she had thanked him for everything that he did during the war. He could have told her then ‘I did it because of you, because I have a huge crush on you’, but he didn’t; he just made them some tea and enjoyed the silence alongside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been the start of their friendship. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked at Hermione Granger across the library. It was October and not many students were studying. But she was, and so was Draco. She looked better now than she had in September. A healthy blush to her cheeks, untamable curly hair that had seen Merlin knows how many hair bands being ripped apart, rounder curves on her chest and ass that he just wanted to...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco groaned, hiding his face in his hands. The Gryffindor looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry… Stupid arithmancy problem.” He lied, curling a piece of parchment between his hands, just for the sake of the lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… I know exactly the one you’re talking about. It took me almost an hour, but I enjoy a good challenge.” She said, picking her books and getting to her feet. He thought she was about to leave, but instead, she sat at his table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was not sure if he paled or blushed. This was new. They never sat together unless they were working on a project or they were assigned as a pairing by a professor. Draco had not looked at the arithmancy problem yet, but he could see how complicated it was, so he was quite thankful for her help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was kind, patient, and helpful. She didn’t give him the solution but guided him instead. “You’re an amazing teacher. You always seemed so impatient with Potter and Weasley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’re a good student… and they’re terrible. They don’t care about the path, they just want to get to the end.” She shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco smirked, “Did the Golden Girl just compliment The Boy Who Made All The Wrong Choices?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione just gave him a look, and he was sure she was a second away of raising a finger and reminding him, that in the end, he had made all the right choices. He stopped her with a chuckle. “Did you ever imagine us here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honest answer?” She asked, stroking the pages of her book, her golden eyes focused on the shelves behind him. Draco nodded. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco eyes doubled in size. “What? You did? How?” He asked, leaning so far forward he was nearly climbing on top of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was foolish, I know. I think I knew it at the time as well, that it would never really happen, but…” She sighed, hiding her face in her hands. “But I thought that maybe you would overcome the fact that I was a muggle-born.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I had… so much could have been different…” Draco reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “The two of us studying together, Granger, we would have concluded our studies earlier, made our OWL’s on the third and our NEWT’s on the fifth.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you had a time-turner as well. Would the Ministry have granted you one?” She smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You used a time-turner? When?” He asked, mouth dropping open in a very impolite way. His mother would be appalled by his lack of manners.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In our third year. I used to attend multiple elective classes,” she explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear… Merlin and Salazar… how were you able to get one? How did the Minister allow you to have one? Terrible things happen to wizards and witches who play with time!” And then Draco was holding both of her hands on his, just to make sure she was alright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Malfoy, you can let go. I’m good! McGonagall helped me get permission from the Ministry, and both her and Madame Pomfrey kept a close eye on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco nodded, squeezing her knuckles one more time before he let go. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy, please.” She snorted. “We’re friends now, you’re allowed to touch me.” Draco didn’t even have to smirk or raise an eyebrow for her to blush and correct herself. “I didn’t mean it like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Granger. I didn't look beyond the innocent meaning of your words.” The Slytherin said. “Thank you again for helping me with the Arithmancy problem, it was driving me mad.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>That and your ass in that skirt,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Draco wanted to add but he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad I could help,” Hermione said, closing her books so slowly that Draco wondered if she was reluctant to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you... “ Draco swallowed and gestured around the table. “It’s big enough for the two of us, if you still want to fulfil that childhood dream and be my study buddy.” He added a wink, just to make sure Hermione couldn’t see how nervous he truly was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And her smirk! Draco wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her smirk, but he loved it. “We’ll see, Malfoy. You might just hate my company. We might not even be suitable together… as study buddies, that is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco raised an eyebrow. “Granger, please. This isn’t the first time that we’d be working together, we’ve had multiple projects, some of those even before we liked each other. We always got top marks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione chuckled. “Malfoy, please. Our History of Magic essays don’t count as working together. We never sat like this. This close, I could…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco suddenly felt a sharp pain in his shin. His mouth dropped open and he just looked at her. “Did you… did you kick me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione chuckled again “I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be that hard. I just wanted to tap my feet against yours… I miscalculated.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously. You also kick harder than I thought you could.” He said, rubbing his leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I kicked a lot of footballs against the wall this summer,” she confessed. “I’m sorry, I have some bruise paste somewhere in here,” she said, placing a little beaded bag on top of the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you carry bruise paste in that little bag, Granger? And don’t worry. I might be pale but I don’t bruise that easily. The paste won’t be necessary.” Hermione extracted her hand from inside her trusty bag. Draco cocked his head at the bag. “You carry it everywhere. You had it in the room of requirement when you saved me… and during the trial.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Gryffindor patted it with a sad smile. “I don’t even want to imagine what I would do if I lost it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wasn’t sure how to reply. He didn’t want to assume anything, or say the wrong thing. He didn’t want to ruin what had been growing between them. He didn’t want to lose his study buddy. The girl he loved; he just couldn’t risk sharing it with her or he would certainly lose her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead of speaking, he brought his hands to his pocket and touched his two comfort blankets. One was a piece of ronan tree bark that he had carved in his 6th year, a token for protection. The other was an old piece of cobalt blue sea glass. Draco held it in his palm before showing it to her. “My own beaded bag.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione raised one finger to touch it, her natural curiosity taking over her. Maybe in another life, they could have both been in Ravenclaw, and could have been study buddies since day one. “You can touch it, Granger. It won’t bite,” he teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione rolled her eyes. “Obviously, it’s a piece of glass that has been physically and chemically weathered by a body of saltwater. It has an unusual colour, most I’ve seen are green or white.” She took it from him, stroking it gently. “It’s hard to imagine you walking on a beach, gathering sea glass and shells.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Do you think my complexion can't handle a little sun?” She blushed, a healthy, happy blush. He chuckled. “Oh, Granger. Wizards and witches enjoy their robes but we enjoy some holidays as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew that! The Weasleys went to Egypt, and they stayed in a wizard only hotel and…” She trailed off as Draco stopped her with a soft tap on her hand, still holding the piece of glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a large collection, but that piece is my favourite. My own Felix Felicis. I found it the summer before our second year, and it was in my pocket for Quidditch tryouts when I caught the snitch and joined the team. I’d left it in my dorm the day that dreadful Hippogriff attacked me,” he confessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you forget about it when I slapped you?” She asked, but her eyes were not on him. She was still studying his favourite keepsake.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember…” Draco lied. It had been in his bag that day. Maybe it was the reason he had been so confident, even if he was a prat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded, placing the sea glass on his open palm again. “I think mine is a little bit nicer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco raised an eyebrow. The bag seemed cheap, if he was being honest. Maybe it was given to her by the Weasleys. “Oh, please, Granger. Expand upon that statement. How could your little bag be nicer than my rare Corsican glass?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione smirked and just opened it, diving her whole arm inside. And Draco realized why it was so important to her.  “It has an extension charm! Those are regulated by the Ministry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed they are, and for good reason. They’re dangerous,” she said, pulling her hand out of it along with a shiny little tube. “One can get lost inside of it, like a black hole. Here, your bruise paste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this a bribe? So I don’t tell anyone about your bag?” He asked. “That’s very… cunning of you. I’m impressed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione raised an eyebrow, and she didn’t seem very pleased. There were alerts in his head screaming ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Granger Danger</span>
  </em>
  <span>,’  so he took the paste from her hands. “Thank you for this, Granger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My pleasure. Now, let’s study.” She said and with a flick of her wand, her hair was tied in a bun on top of her head.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They exchanged gifts in December, because their friendship was maturing; because sometimes she called him Draco and he called her Hermione; because they were an unbeatable team. Oh, how Draco wondered if the war outcome could have been different if they had always been on the same team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d told him about her parents, and how even after the obliviation had been lifted, her parents still had lapses of memory that would last a couple of seconds to a few minutes. And how that meant that they couldn’t have a normal life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abraxas Malfoy had a collection of books about the use of spells and potions in muggles. Draco had never gotten a good explanation about their existence in the study, but when he wrote to Narcissa asking her to send them to him because he wanted to give them to a friend, he had been very thankful for his grandfather's schemes. He could only hope that the book would help her and her parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione had given him a huge box with a number of small gifts, all of them thoughtful. A beautiful little robin quill and some purple ink so he could make annotations in the books with thin margins, but also some muggle pens and a leather notebook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knitted him a jumper, and he knew she had knitted it instead of buying it because sometimes she would work on it in the library while they were studying, from sage green and white yarn. The sneaky Gryffindor had told him it was for Molly Weasley, and he’d fallen on her lie like a Hufflepuff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She included some of his favourite sweets and a few packages of what he could only assume were muggle varieties. She also added an electric toothbrush with a note on how to use it. Draco had laughed, but he couldn’t deny her, so he tried it, and came to the conclusion that it was strange. So strange.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mother was appalled when he insisted on wearing the jumper to catch the Hogwarts Express, but he was 18 years old and it wasn’t like she could force him into the clothes she wanted for him anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was looking for her at the station, thinking she should be easy to find, but he never caught sight of her bushy hair. He tried to look for her in some compartments but Pansy bullied him into a talk about Gryffindors and how to befriend them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Granger and I started as study buddies, Pans, and became friends along the way, I think,” he said, stroking the soft yarn of his jumper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First of all, what is that ugly thing you’re wearing? I only noticed it now.” Draco rolled his eyes. Pansy was his oldest friend. There was even a photograph in his room back at the manor of a 7 month old Pansy Parkinson holding a newborn Draco Malfoy, but sometimes he wanted to hex her. “Secondly, it can’t be that easy. You can’t just be studying together and two months later you’re exchanging gifts. Even if they lack… well, everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pans, it would help if you had something in common with the poor man that caught your eye and you’re trying to catch in your web,” he said with a sigh. There weren’t many 8th year Gryffindors that Pansy would be interested in. Well honestly, there was only</span>
  <em>
    <span> one</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’d start by begging Professor Sprout to let you take Advanced Herbology. And then begging someone else to tutor you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be rude, Draco.” Pansy pouted, in fake-- or possibly real-- annoyance for having been caught. “I was actually trying to ask for help. Go buy me some butterfly wings to make it up to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wanted to laugh, but he knew better. Instead, he got up and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back. Going to get some coffee as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was while looking for the trolley lady that Draco finally found Hermione Granger. Well, she found him by colliding against his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi…” He whispered. “I’ve been looking for you, did you like your gift? Was it useful? I loved mine as you can see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Hermione was not happy, her lips closed in a harsh line. Her eyes found his and they were filled with fire and fury. Draco took a step back. “What happened?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened? You dare you ask me what happened?! How dare you, Draco Malfoy!” She screamed, slapping his chest, once, twice, thrice before he caught her wrists in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Granger… Hermione. Stop… What have I done? I don’t understand!” He confessed as he took her in. Her eyes were still fire, but there were tears falling down her cheeks now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t understand… Poor Draco... Poor self-righteous Draco who would sacrifice himself, but not because it was the right thing to do, but because he loved me! Me! Hermione Granger, a muggleborn witch, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mud</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could finish her sentence, Draco covered her mouth with his hand, and pushed her against the train wall. “Don’t you say it. I don’t want to hear you or anyone else say it.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>How did she know</span>
  </em>
  <span>? “Who told you?” That was the pressing matter. No one truly knew about his infatuation with the Gryffindor, it was his most sacred, guarded secret, the one that he always thought he would take to his grave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t play games with me, Malfoy!” She cried as he dropped his hand. “You’re not even going to deny it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco looked around. There were students out of their compartments, watching the two of them with open curiosity. He took a few steps back. “This isn’t the place for this conversation… Tonight, under ou - under the tree.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco didn’t even go to his dorm to change into his robes. He just left the thestral pulled carriage and walked to the northern courtyard. It was always quiet in that courtyard, and Draco preferred it to anywhere else in the castle. Hermione had once told him the courtyard was used less because the towers covered the sun sooner than the others, and it seemed colder and darker. He didn’t mind, and Hermione didn’t either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d found that tree by chance during his sixth year. He was just walking mindlessly, trying to forget about the suicide mission the Dark Lord had entrusted him with when he caught sight of the red berries. It was said that Salazar Slytherin had burned all the rowan trees on Hogwarts grounds, so he wasn’t sure how one still remained growing, flowering and bearing fruit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rowan tree that had been his and from which he carried a piece of bark, had become theirs. They’d spent almost as much time reading under it as in the library studying at their shared table. He placed his forehead against the trunk, and wished it was harsh instead of smooth, just so the pain would tie him to reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione had once mentioned the irony of their finding comfort under a tree that muggle folklore believed to protect against witches. He placed his hands on the trunk, thinking he could use some protection and some good luck at that moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how long he had been there waiting for her. It could have been five minutes or five hours, but he felt her presence as soon as she stepped through the archway. She was still wearing the same clothing she had worn on the train, muggle jeans and a pastel pink jumper, but now she had her Gryffindor cloak wrapped around her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw her approach. The moon was high and it illuminated her face. She stopped a few steps away, unreachable, farther away from him that they had been in months. He shivered under her stare; brown tourmaline that could melt silver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed in silence until Hermione pulled a piece of parchment from the inside of her cloak. She stroked the addressee title, and a single tear trailed down her cheek. Draco’s thumb raised on its own volition, stopping the droplet before it could fall to the ground. The only thing able to break the protective enchantment of a rowan tree was a tear of a witch. “Don’t cry… please don’t cry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he understood. He knew the parchment she was holding well. He had written it in a moment of deep despair. He’d put his thoughts and his reasons into words and buried it somewhere he thought no one would ever find it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you do it, Draco?” She asked, taking a step back, further away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll need to be more precise…Why did I change allegiances? Why did I write the letter? Why did I hide my feelings from you?” He would answer any of them if she gave him the chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All great questions, but what I want to know is why you sent it to me? Why did you put it inside the book you gave me for Christmas? Why now?” More tears were falling, angry tears that matched the urgency in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wanted to reach for her, to hold her, but he knew that she wouldn’t accept his touch. Hermione would hex him and let him die a slow death under the tree, </span>
  <em>
    <span>their tre</span>
  </em>
  <span>e. Maybe it would be fitting, dying under the tree he sought protection when he thought for sure he would perish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d forgotten it was there…” Draco confessed. It had been so stupid, but Abraxas’ books about muggles were a safe place. No death eater would look there. Voldemort would never show any interest in something like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn’t believe him, but he needed her to understand that he was telling her the truth. “You forgot? Let me remind you.” She said, unfolding the piece of parchment with trembling hands. “Hermione, I know this letter will probably never reach you, but if one day you come across these words, it means I achieved something good in the 17 years of my life. It means I saved you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop, Granger! Stop!” He pleaded as he tried to reach the parchment, but she held it close to her chest. “I know what it says. I wrote it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d forgotten about it!” Hermione murmured, but her voice was full of disdain, not the playful teasing tone he enjoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot where I’d hidden it… I could never hide my feelings, but I could occlude my thoughts. I wrote everything I felt on the day of my 17 birthday. I folded the letter, I addressed it to the Person I Loved The Most, and I occluded. The Dark Lord, my aunt-- well my aunts-- my parents, none of them could know about it, about you...” he explained, moving a hand through his hair and pulling it, not so gently. He welcomed the pain at that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what this is, Draco? You think it is a love letter! Godric, when I found it in the middle of the book, I thought your grandfather had sent or received a love letter! I had a huge smile on my face, thinking I would find out that Malfoys are sentimental and romantic after all, under all that marble. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>? This is not a love letter, Draco Malfoy! This is a suicide note.” Hermione said as she rubbed her cheeks, the tears vanishing under her fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No…” Draco shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t lie to me, Malfoy! You became a spy for the order thinking you would die.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I became a death eater thinking I would die as well,” Draco said, thinking he could change the tone of the conversation. “Does that make you feel better, Hermione? I was certain I was going to die, I was terrified the girl I had been harbouring a crush for would die, so I did what I could to save her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s hand flinched at her side, closing into a fist and Draco closed his eyes, preparing himself for the punch that never came. Maybe he deserved it. He heard the Gryffindor woman groan. “You’re insufferable, you know that? How would your death make me feel better, Malfoy? Enlighten me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. His only argument wouldn’t stand. She would say that he wrote the letter before she even stepped foot into Malfoy Manor. Self-sacrifice was not a Slytherin trait, but it was the only explanation he had. If he was going to die, he would do anything in his power to try and save her. A cunning self-sacrifice just seemed ironic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I thought…” Hermione huffed, shaking her head. Draco stretched out a hand, hoping she would give him back the parchment. But she folded it and placed it back in her pocket. “It’s mine, isn’t it?” She asked coldly. “It was addressed to me after all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighed, watching her leave the courtyard. She seemed so small, like all the strength had been wasted on this conversation, like she’d left something behind. Or maybe it was the heft of what she carried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A piece of parchment could be as light as a feather, but the burden of those words… It was like they were inscribed in lead instead of ink.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione never joined him at their table in the library on the following day or any day after that. January was as cold as the snow that had covered Scotland and Hogsmeade. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How could he have been so foolish? Send the book without even going through it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>At least before he had her as a friend, a study buddy. Now he didn’t even have that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he had just looked through the pages, maybe put a bookmark in the section about Memory Charms… But his mother had wrapped it so beautifully, in a pastel blue enchanted gift wrapper, with snowflakes moving around the surface, and he hadn’t wanted to ruin the enchantment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop sulking, Draco,” Pansy said, sitting with her feet across his lap, a box of butterfly wings on her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish it was that easy.” He whispered, closing his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just go talk to her, ask for her help,” Pansy advised, offering him a butterfly wing that he refused. “It’s what you told me, and it worked, I have a date with Longbottom on Saturday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he know it’s a date?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet. He thinks he’ll help me choose some new dragonhide gloves. But he’ll find out when we go have tea before or after the shopping.” She smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco chuckled, his first real laugh in weeks, and patted her ankle. “And will you blackmail him into taking you out for Valentine’s as well?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy rolled her eyes. “Blackmail is such an ugly word… I enjoy persuasion a little better. But, you never answered my question. Have you tried approaching her? Get on your knees, lost as you are, beg for forgiveness…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I could, but she rushes in the opposite direction whenever I get anywhere near her,” he confessed. He’d told Pansy everything when she found him freezing against the rowan tree. She’d told him he was a fool, forced him into taking a sip of the firewhiskey in her flask and let him spill his heart to the closest thing he had to a sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This all started with a letter, Draco. Maybe it’s the way it’ll end. Write to her again. Use your words, not gestures,” Pansy offered, sitting straighter as she looked at him. “I even rushed all my plans with Longbottom because of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did what?” Draco asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I’d planned on getting to Hogsmeade after only 12 days of tutoring lessons in Herbology?” She asked, and Draco shook his head. “No, of course not. The plan was for him to be allured by my charms and come crawling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you rush your plan?” Draco asked, stealing a sugary wing from her box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because the only way I can help you is knowing what Granger is going through, and it’s not like she’ll tell me if I confront her, but maybe Longbottom will let something slip… And he has wonderful hands and arms. The way he rolls his sleeves in the greenhouse... And Draco-” Pansy was daydreaming, and Draco needed the image of Longbottom’s hands out of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to, Pans-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Don’t make me hex you. I love you but I’m not doing this for purely altruistic motives, I’m not a Hufflepuff,” she teased. “But think about what I said. She kept your letter, even if she hated it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy’s words seemed to play around in his brain. Maybe… maybe not everything was lost, not just yet.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco was in the library, a potions book open in front of him. He missed having Granger murmuring the potions instructions under her breath until she knew them by heart. Basilisk’s fangs, he missed her. He always thought it was a childhood crush, the forbidden fruit, but no… She was so much more. He’d been right when he wrote it. She was the person he loved the most. And Draco doubted he would ever be able to forget her, or how she filled his heart, or how she made him a better person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy had gone on her date with Longbottom and brought news that it was possible that Granger missed him as well. She told him not to give up, because Granger kept his first letter as her dearest possession. And then the Slytherin girl crossed the room and sat on Longbottom’s lap as he was reading in the common room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Draco spent the next month trying to write to her, little notes that he knew she read because she would reply. Maybe this was how it should always have started, little notes first and only important letters later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valentine’s weekend was fast approaching and he wondered if this was the time for the big letter. After a couple of terrible drafts, a broken quill, some spilled ink, and finally loosening the knot of his tie, Draco was able to write something that he hoped would make her give him one more chance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Hermione,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know this letter will reach you, because you’ve been enjoying the notes that Aquila brings you, and he’s loving the treats you’re giving him. I don’t know if you’ve forgiven me yet, but I hope you will give this letter a chance. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t promise you won’t want to scream at me again, but at least this time I’ll be prepared.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This all started with a letter, untimely letter some would say. You were right, it wasn’t a love letter, but this one is, my dear, do not fear… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The war is over, and even if some memories, some nightmares will never leave us…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I survived. I changed. I am alive and I am worthy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We survived. We changed. We are alive and we are worthy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For so long I thought it was a crush, that one morning I would simply wake up and my feelings for you would be gone, puff… But they’re still here. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to be the cliché man, who says that he opened his eyes to your beauty when he saw you all dolled up, I can’t deny that helped. But I was enticed by your brain long before that, by how smart and magical you were… You are.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It hurts, being apart from you. These last weeks made me realize that even more, and that’s exactly the reason I know I am truly, madly, deeply, foolishly, crazy, completely in love with you, Hermione Granger.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even my mother knows about you, that’s how serious I am about it. About you. But I don’t say that to put any pressure on you. I understand if you never want to sit across from me ever again, but if you believe there’s even the slimmest chance for this Slytherin…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This weekend is Valentine’s, I would love it if we could meet. I’ll be waiting. I wonder if you will wear that little ruby red dress that you wore to the Slughorn Christmas Party?  It’s the kind of outfit that deserves to leave your trunk more than once.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You are beautiful, and if not for an abundance of other reasons, you should be a Gryffindor just because of the way red suits your skin. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours, Draco Malfoy</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Draco folded the parchment, summoned his silver wax seal and pressed it into the parchment. He addressed it to </span>
  <em>
    <span>the person I love the most</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and now he could only wait. Wait for her.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day, Draco saw her receive the letter. Aquila landed gracefully on the table right in front of her, offering her a leg with a flourish. Hermione offered the eagle owl a piece of bacon, and it started eating contentedly from her hand. It had taken months to train the owl to eat from his hand, to trust and love him. Aquila just loved Granger more it seemed. But she was pretty easy to love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione untied the card, and Draco stopped breathing at that moment. He could see her eyes travelling down the parchment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What would be her reaction? Would she burn it? Would she read it? Would she pull away once more?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aquila stroked his wing against Hermione's cheek.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Why was he not leaving the table?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The owl had already been fed and delivered the letter. Hermione stroked his feathers as she broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she started to read, the majestic eagle owl raised and started flying out of the hall, following the other birds. Hermione had Draco’s full attention. He saw her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she read, but as usual, it didn’t stay there for long. It fell, covering the side of her face once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brown-gold eyes were travelling along the lines, her cheeks gaining some colour and on his side of the hall, Draco's heart was beating faster. Her reaction was the only thing that mattered. At that moment, it was like only the two of them were in the Great Hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco saw her stop reading, her pretty red lips forming a perfect o, the blush on her cheeks rising. Then the surprise shifted into a smile, and she closed her eyes. And if Draco ever needed an image to describe delight, it was exactly the face she made. She was happy. His words brought a smile to her face this time, not tears, and that was all he could’ve asked for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She caught him looking from across the room, and Draco felt his own cheeks heating up, but he could not pull his eyes from her. She nodded and smiled even bigger. That was the only confirmation Draco needed. She would meet him tomorrow.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco waited for her by the Great Entrance of the castle, wearing his knitted jumper. The one that she had made from him and that he loved so much. But he waited and waited. She never appeared. Couples left, arms wrapped around each other as they walked to Hogsmeade, to enjoy the most romantic day of the year together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a table reserved on the upper floor of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. It was a cliché to take a girl to the pinkest shop in the village, but he didn’t want to stretch her trust in him and apparate them somewhere. Not that it mattered now because she stood him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so stupid, getting his hopes up. She’d decided that he wasn’t worth it, he wasn’t worthy of her company. He walked back inside the castle to wander the halls, trying to stop the self-pity that was overwhelming him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had stayed away from the rowan tree since the argument with Hermione, but now it looked different from that fateful night. There were 11 colourful ribbons tied to different branches of the tree. The green one caught his attention, with 2 knots and as soon as he touched it, the word Harmony started shining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco touched each ribbon. Clarity, communication, gentle love, healing, luck, negativity absorption, passion, peace, prosperity and stability appearing on each ribbon. Ribbon magic was something not really part of Hogwarts curriculum. His grandmother Druella had been particularly interested in that side of magic, but that was the only reason Draco had any knowledge of the subject.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then a memory drifted to the front of his mind, of Hermione in the library back in November, a book about old witch traditions and ancient wishing spells open in front of her. If she had been the one to put the ribbons, for love, and gratitude, and hope, why had she just never appeared?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco sighed, deciding he would spend Valentine’s studying, like the swot that in reality he always had been. He retrieved his books from his dorm, and walked to the library. All his books, parchment, and quills fell on the floor when he saw who was sitting at his table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione Granger was waiting for him, in the little ruby red dress. She’d done something to her hair and even applied make-up. She looked even more beautiful than usual. “I was starting to think that you weren’t coming, I’ve been waiting for an hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I was waiting for you by the Grand Entrance, I thought we’d go to Hogsmeade…” He explained, walking closer to her and holding one hand out for her. The Gryffindor took it and he helped her stand. “You look beautiful, Hermione.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. I don’t think I had the chance to say it last time, but the jumper suits you better than I ever thought it would,” she confessed, raising one hand to touch the knitted pattern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just saw the ribbons, when did you tie them to the branches?” He asked, cradling her cheek and making her look at him. Her eyes were shining, just like when you raise a jar of honey into the light, and she wore that expression of pure delight once more as she smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost a month ago… I missed you,” she admitted, before chuckling, “I finally got the Malfoy love letter that I was hoping to have found on Christmas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seemed very… delighted with the letter, Hermione. Blushing and smiling...” He whispered, looking down at her. She was so close. “So lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you wrote you loved me and that you liked not only to see me in this dress but that you adored my mind as well. It seemed like the only natural reaction.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t the first time I’ve said that…” He whispered, his eyes moving to her bare shoulders, where little freckles painted the bronzed skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was, though. The first letter was about survival, you never said it word by word until now.” Granger placed one hand over his heart, and Draco shook his head.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fool. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He had been a fool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry… I love you, Hermione Granger.” His left hand moved to his chest, covering hers, and he squeezed gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grinned, picking something up from the table. It was a little red card, decorated with so many hearts, it was almost as bad as Madam Puddifoot’s shop. It read ‘Be My Valentine’ on the cover and inside, in her calligraphy she had written: “I think I love you too, Draco Malfoy.” She whispered it as he read the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have all the time in the world…” He assured, interrupting her before she could even start to speak. He knew what she was about to say, that it would take time. He did not care about time, or how much she was certain. She had written it and she’d said those words just before his name. Draco could have been run over by a Hippogriff and he wouldn’t mind, because he was holding her within arms reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do… I was thinking maybe we could have a study date,” she said, patting their desk with her free hand. “And then, maybe we could have a little Valentine’s lunch in Hogsmeade.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like a good plan, I have a Transfiguration essay to finish. But first… does this study date include a kiss?” He asked, his thumb tracing her cheek and getting dangerously close to her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It might. It depends on your behaviour during this date and how much we accomplish.” She winked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just mean, Hermione Granger… Making me work for a kiss?” He teased, summoning his belongings and levitating them to his side of the table. He stroked the Valentine’s Card she had gifted him. He loved it. It seemed very muggle, in some kind of cheap cardboard, but it was as precious as the dragonhide journals his grandfather Cygnus had gifted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Gryffindor sighed, murmuring something that sounded close to ‘just so dramatic’, but she got on her tiptoes and pecked his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Hermione. I think that will be enough for a few hours.” He winked and Granger just laughed, sitting in front of him. Draco stretched his legs, and suddenly there was a foot crawling up his leg. He looked up, pale eyebrow raised, but Hermione was immersed in her work, and a smile spread across his lips.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And here it is, a little love story.<br/>When I started writing it, I never thought it would be this long, but it just kept flowing and flowing...</p><p>I hope you all forgive me, I wanted the kiss so badly, but then it just did not happen... </p><p>Credits to One Direction and Truly, Madly, Deeply for giving me some inspiration for the Love Letter/Valentine's Card</p></blockquote></div></div>
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